


magic madness heaven sin

by kingsnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Sex, Are we having sex?, Bathtubs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking, Jon being confused both sexually and about what's going on, JonsaSmutWeek, platonic handjobs, sex wearing only stark cloaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsnow/pseuds/kingsnow
Summary: Sansa gives Jon a platonic handjob. For the North.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jade_Masquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Masquerade/gifts).



> It's highly possible that I can be convinced to write more of this.  
> For jonsasmutweek Day 1 -- Get a little wet  
> For Jade bc she helped me come up with this concept! <3

Sansa stayed back after the rest of Jon’s siblings (cousins now, he had to remind himself) and advisors left his solar. He had expected this. He had imagined Sansa yelling at him half a hundred times when he was trapped on Dragonstone. He often passed the time thinking of her to make the separation bearable. He had imagined her in all sorts of other ways too... but he knew it was best not to dwell on that when she was so close, if he dared think of it at all. For awhile, Sansa just looked at her hands. Jon sat there quietly, watching her out of the corner of his eye and waiting to be yelled at like a child who had been caught being naughty. He did not blame her for being mad, by bending the knee without telling her first he’d known would he would be coming home to.

 

Sansa finally did look up at him. Instead of a scowl, she forced a smile to her face. He could tell she was trying to stop herself from crying. “Is it true that you’ve taken the Dragon Queen as a lover?” Sansa asked at last. She looked more distressed than he’d imagined she would, not that he’d ever imagined he’d be discussing this with her. He’d never asked her if she’d taken Littlefinger as a lover, even when he’d heard a pair of guards giggling about it. He had just banished those guardsmen to the wall with the wildlings, hoping he’d never have to look at their dumb faces again.  

 

Jon cleared his throat and looked away. “Yes,” he answered, “I did.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa said after a minute. There was no anger in her voice, only disappointment. “I see.”

 

Jon tugged at his collar. He felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room, and he was almost certain he was as flushed as a maid.

 

“And that’s why you bent the knee? So you could bed her?”

 

“No,” Jon said. She caught his eye. Jon hated when she did that. It was like she was trying to drown him in the depths of her blue eyes, to overwhelm him and turn him into the useless fool he always was when he was with her. “I bent the knee before any of… _that_ … began.” He was not even certain why he was answering her, let alone why she cared enough to ask. This was none of her business, truly.

 

“Then why did you bed her?” Sansa implored, still not looking away.

 

For that, Jon had no answer. At least, not one he could tell her. He couldn’t very well tell Sansa that he’d gone to bed with Daenerys because she’d been there, and because Jon had been trying to forget about his sister. “I just needed — uh — the comfort of a woman.”

 

Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t need to turn to _her_ for that. If you need… _womanly comforts_ … you should have come to me.”

 

Jon just needed this conversation to be over, so he nodded in agreement. As much as he wanted to believe she did, it was obvious that Sansa had no idea what womanly comforts meant. She couldn’t realize it was a euphemism for fucking. He wasn’t going to be the one to inform her that she’d just offered to share his bed. Despite everything, Sansa was still quite sheltered, and Jon thought that was beautiful. “Next time I need comfort I’ll come to you, I promise. We really need to get to dinner, though — they don’t like to eat without us there.”

 

Sansa nodded. As the two of them walked through the door, Sansa took his arm in hers. Perhaps this was her idea of womanly comforts, and in truth, the gesture thrilled him more than bedding his aunt ever had. To his great surprise, she did not pull her arm away when the two of them walked into the Great Hall. Arya raised an eyebrow at him, and Jon rolled his eyes in return, hoping he’d made it clear that this wasn’t his choice, but rather one of Sansa’s odd girlish flights of fancy.

 

Arya must have accepted it, and Daenerys herself didn’t even bat an eyelash. He could have sworn he’d seen a knowing smirk on Bran’s face, but the conversation stayed on Cersei and what they would do about White Walkers. Jon did his best not to think about Sansa’s offer, which was easy enough for she stayed mostly silent at his side. She didn’t speak to anyone at all, except when she summoned her maid and whispered a request in her ear.

 

When Jon returned to his chambers for the night, there was a large bath of warm water waiting for him. It filled the air with steam and the scent of lemon oil. There were flowers from the Glass Gardens in the water. Jon would have to remember to thank whatever maid had put this together, and make sure to let her down easy. He walked over to the tub and closed his eyes, breathing in the warm air.

 

He heard the door behind him. He turned, expecting his steward, but it was Sansa standing there. Without looking at Jon, she pulled off her cloak and placed it over the back of a chair. Underneath her cloak was only a thin white shift. Sansa’s long red hair was loose and tucked behind her ears. “Do you need help with your clothes, My Lord?” she asked when she’d made her way over to the tub.

 

As if he hadn’t been rendered foolish enough by the sight of Sansa so undone, Jon was dumbstruck by the question. He opened his mouth to answer but no words came. He had tried, but he could think of nothing but Sansa’s hands on him, Sansa undressing him, Sansa taking her shift off for him…

 

Before Jon could answer, Sansa had undone the leather straps on his cloak. It fell heavily to the floor. Unlike her own cloak which she’d been so tidy with, she left it there on the ground. She’d already moved on to his breastplate. It was actually slightly alarming how good she was at undressing a man. His own squires had never been so capable. He’d have to remember to do a thorough investigation to make sure nobody had been taking advantage of his sister. He hoped that wasn’t the case. Despite everything she’d gone through, his sister was still an innocent. She had no idea what she was doing, nor what desires she was stirring inside of him. Jon would do his best to keep it that way.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Jon said, when her soft breath on his neck was almost too much to bear, “I can manage on my own.”

 

“Oh. I thought you wanted a woman’s comforts?”

 

There was something in her eyes that he didn’t recognize. For a moment he thought it was vulnerability, but then her eyes darkened. “Are you mocking me?” Jon asked, with more bite to his voice than he’d anticipated.

 

“Of course not,” she said, with genuine irritation in her voice. She hit him playfully on the chest and smiled at him as though they had a shared secret. “Would you mind helping me undress, though?”

 

At that point it was impossible to deny how aroused he was, but he did his best to think of Septa Mordane’s pinched face, and when that didn’t work of Drogon burning the Tarly’s alive. He reminded himself that Sansa was a proper lady, a Northern princess really, and she was used to having maids help her undress. It was perfectly natural that if she were without him he might call on her for assistance. After all, they weren’t truly brother and sister. He nodded, before stiffly pulling her shift over her head. It was easy work, and if Sansa was a commoner she’d never need help with something so simple, but he didn’t mind helping her undress. It was only after she was naked, clad in nothing but stockings that went up to her waist, that Jon realized what he’d done. He stared at her bare breasts half in confusion and half in agony.

 

“Are you sleeping here tonight?” he asked lamely.

 

“Of course not,” Sansa said, “what would people think?”

 

“Ah,” Jon said, nodding, not sure what to make of the beautiful naked girl standing before him. He looked away, towards the tub.

 

“I only meant to give you a woman’s comfort. You haven’t gotten any cleaner aboard that ship… it’s a wonder the Dragon Queen would even have you in her bed, really. Ships are such dreadful places, half the passengers must have been seasick, and the other half crowded beneath deck, with no proper latrines —”

 

“I don’t need to relive it,” Jon said, cutting her off. He did not want to imagine the smell of the boat while he had Sansa’s naked body in his periphery and the room smelled of sweet lemons. Besides, he knew he didn’t smell  half as rank as she made it seem. He had bathed the day before he was due at Winterfell, in case she’d run into his arms like she had that first day.

 

“We’ll have a bath, and I’ll scrub you clean,” Sansa said, and he was happy to pretend he was disgusting enough to warrant such extreme action.

 

“Thank you, Sansa.”

 

Sansa turned from him and ran her hands through the water. With her eyes averted he was free to look at her. She bent over to pick her shift up off the floor and he could no longer fight the desire that stirred in his belly. He groaned, and Sansa turned back and looked at him, one of her hands on the ground to suppourt her. “Are you alright?” She asked. The low torchlight was playing tricks on his eyes, because it seemed as though she licked her lips. This was agony. It was not fair that such a thin woman had such a shapely ass. It was as though some wicked part of Sansa knew that Jon craved her cunt and was trying to bait him into doing something they could never take back. He turned his back on her, knowing if he could undress and get into the water before she’d seen how hard he was that he’d be able to make it through this without making fools of both of them.

 

He’d never undressed more quickly. He left his clothes haphazardly on the ground, and submerged himself in the water. She was staring at him with a crooked eyebrow when he’d done it, smoothing her shift over the back of the chair. She must not have seen how indecently aroused he was, for she took her time taking off her stockings and placing them over the back of the chair. Sansa caught him staring, but she just smiled softly. She lowered herself into the tub of hot water much more gracefully than he did, sighing with pleasure at the heat. The tub was large, but not meant for two and she was almost on top of him. She sunk to her knees for lack of space, her breasts only half above the water. The ends of her red hair floated around her.

 

It was impossible not to look at her for he’d never seen such a beautiful sight. His mouth had long since gone dry so even if he’d been capable of forming words he wouldn’t have been able to speak.

 

“Turn around and I’ll wash your back,” Sansa instructed. He did as he was told, but if he’d hoped for his arousal to abate, Sansa’s fingers digging into his back did no such thing. When he closed his eyes he tried to imagine anything else — death, their shared father, being submerged in icy water thinking he was dead — but all he could think of his how her nails would feel against his back if he scooped her up and carried her to bed. He was a base man. This gesture of kindness was meant to help him prepare for war, Sansa had only meant to be sisterly, and Jon was turning it into something sexual.

 

Sansa’s breasts pressed against his back as she leaned in close to him to lather up his chest. Her nipples were cold and hard from being exposed to the cold air. Jon couldn’t help but imagine taking them between his thumbs and forfingers to punish her for getting him so worked up. Sansa must have soaped herself up as well, because she slid against him effortlessly. The monster inside of him wondered if she was as slick between her legs.

 

“I think you’ll need to turn around again,” Sansa said. Jon held in his breath as he did. When he saw her again she was somehow even more beautiful than she had been before. “I’ll need to get closer. I hope you don’t mind,” Sansa said as she crawled into his lap. She straddled him and stood on her knees. The peaks of her breasts were only inches from his mouth. It would be so easy to pull her toward him and slide his tongue against them. Her breasts bounced as Sansa wiggled around rubbing soup into him and rinsing him. She must have occasionally felt his hard cock against her, for there was little he could do at this point to hide it, but Sansa was a lady and so she said nothing of it. She didn’t seem to mind anyway, for her hands drifted lower and lower. She caressed the muscles of his stomach, digging her palms into his abdomen. Her hands reached up again, gentle with his scarred chest, using a soft cloth to clean him. “I didn’t realize that you hadn’t healed,” she said, concern in her voice as she looked him in the eye.

 

Jon swallowed. “Maybe with time.”

 

“A maester really should be tending to this. Did _that woman_ let you have access to one when she trapped you on her island?”

 

Jon hadn’t requested one. “I’m fine. I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

 

Sansa nodded reluctantly. She opened her mouth to say something, but she slipped in the soapy water. Her chest came crashing down into his. Jon gripped her waist to steady her. “Thank you,” she said, sliding down next to him.

 

Jon sighed in relief when she’d gotten off of him, but that was shortsighted. Sansa covered her hand in soap and grabbed his cock. She squeezed and he groaned. She looked up into his eyes from under dark lashes as she began to lather soap into him.

 

“Maybe this is too much?” Sansa asked as she stoked him. “You’re probably much better at taking care of this than I am…” He didn’t want her to stop. His hand clasped down on top of hers. If it wasn’t shameful enough that he was letting Sansa do this out of some perverted idea of duty, it only took him a minute or so to explode into the water. Sansa gasped when he came. She’d clearly never done this before, never been asked to pleasure a man like this. He didn’t even know where she’d come up with such an idea. Reluctantly, he released both their hands.

 

Sansa pressed a kiss to his cheek before sliding out of the tub. Water dripped off of her perfect body as she walked across the stone floors. In the torchlight Jon could see her own scars, and he was happy to know that they’d begun to heal. Sansa bent over and put one stocking on and then the other. He was certain that the image of her bent over would haunt his dreams until the day he died. She took her time and allowed him to look at her as she dressed. He hated himself for staring. He’d been so terribly obvious. She knew how he felt and had let him use her because she was so kind. Finally she pulled her shift back over her head and covered herself in her cloak.

 

When she was done, she turned to him at last.

  


“See you tommorow,” she said, a mysterious smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 2 -- A Little Bit Naughty.  
> I think I'm gonna add a Sansa POV to this, but I'm not sure which day yet <3

When Sansa had left, Jon had wondered if he’d imagined it all. He was left confused in a bathtub and perhaps he was just going insane, perhaps he’d brought about his own peak, for certainly Sansa would never do something so forward. So he did his best to put the whole thing out of his mind, to convince himself he’d simply misinterpreted whatever happened. It had all been  _ so fast _ . He did his best not to let Sansa feel like anything had changed between the two of them. He tried not to read into her smiles or the way her hand rested on his thigh underneath the table at dinner. He had almost completely convinced himself by the time he was alone in his solar looking over Winterfell’s accounts and correcting Sansa’s miscalculations. Sums provided him some relief from sexual confusion, as math often did. 

 

He was even a little annoyed with Sansa by the time she showed up in his solar. She was as beautiful as she was fierce in her Northern fur cloak, but she really needed to practice her multiplication tables. “I thought you told me Maester Wolkan looked over these books,” Jon grumbled as she walked over this desk. 

 

“He did,” Sansa said. 

 

That couldn’t possibly be true, but Jon let it slide. He didn’t want to fight with Sansa when there was so little time left for the two of them to spend together, what with Daenerys and Bran and Arya lingering about the castle, eager for his time and attention. 

 

When Jon looked up, Sansa’s cloak had been pushed back behind her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing even less than she had been when she’d attended to him the night before. Jon’s mouth went dry as he looked at her, taking in every inch of her exposed skin. He had spent all day trying to fool himself and he couldn’t resist a second longer, no matter how eager and green it made him look. She stood tall as he gazed at her. She ran her hands up her stomach and pull her breasts, never shying away. When her hand finally wandered in between her legs he snapped out of the trance she’d put him under. 

 

“Sansa,” he said, looking into her eyes, even though it shamed him to do so when he was this hard and pathetic. “When I said I’d enjoy your comforts, I didn’t mean you’d have to do anything like this…”

 

“No?” Sansa asked. She frowned and tilted her head to the side. She walked around the side of his desk and sat on his lap, brushing her cloak behind her. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. “Was this?”

 

There was no way she couldn’t feel how hard he was beneath his breeches. There was so little fabric between the two of them. But there was no way he could cool down. Not with her breasts at mouth level. She was so close to him and made no efforts to pull away, not even when her hard nipples brushed against his lips.

 

There was nothing he could say to that. It took everything in him not to dive headfirst into her and leave her breasts covered in love bites. 

 

“Or what about this?” Sansa asked, leaning down to press her lips to his. Her tongue was soft against his and he wondered how heavenly it would feel against his cock. She nibbled on his bottom lip before pulling back, as if she was savouring the taste of him. “Was this what you had in mind?” she asked, their foreheads pressed together and her mouth still an inch from his. It would be so easy to kiss her again, if not to unleash his breeches and bury himself inside her cunt. He wondered if she would be wet enough to take him now, or if she’d want him to kneel before her and make her peak before he took her. “You can touch me, you know… or would you rather, I could mend your clothes, or bring you sweets. Which way do you want me, Lord Snow?”

 

He groaned, which seemed to amuse his cruel sister.

 

“I just meant to please you, Lord Snow… have I been naughty?”

 

“You have,” Jon said, finally giving in. He closed the gap between them and kissed her again, harder this time. And when he’d had his fill his mouth drifted down to her breasts. He took them in his hands, finally feeling the weight of them. A thumb brushes against one nipple and he sucked on the other. Sansa wrapped her legs more tightly around him. He realized then that Sansa hadn’t barred the door before she came in, but the thought excited him more than it worried him. Sansa’s cloak fell around them, hiding them from any prying eyes. He would be the only one who got to see her in her most glorious form, any intruders would just see the way her head fell back in pleasure as she rubbed her cunt against his breeches. Jon knew just this could get him off if he wasn’t careful, and after his miserable performance the other night — he was still ashamed how quickly he’d come — he intended to last long enough to watch her peak.

 

“Maybe you need to punish me, then,” Sansa said, “you are my liege lord, after all.”

 

“No. You deserve a reward for such loyal service,” Jon said. He might be a fool, but he did know some things, and how to finger a redhead was one of those things. He would repay the favour she’d done him last night in kind. He remembered the two guard boys he’d sent to the wall, and his rage when he’d seen Rickard Forrester — that stupidly handsome Northern lad — smiling at her. But she was his, truly, wasn’t she? His sister, at the very least. And she was crying out  _ his  _ name as he ran his thumb over her clit, moving it in circles as he fucked her with his hand.

 

Sansa came surprisingly quickly. He’d always thought girl’s bodies were much more complicated than that, but it did make him feel slightly better for his own performance the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Hungry For You/Almost All The Way/A little bit naughty (again).  
> Thanks for reading, all! And hope you guys had a fun Smut Week. And thanks to Amy for throwing it <3
> 
> Also I saw Taylor Swift last night and her singing the title of this fic live was wild, my friends. Utterly surreal.

For the third night in a row, duty brought Sansa into Jon’s arms.

 

Or at least that’s what she called it when she justified it to herself.

 

If Jon went to bed with Sansa, he wouldn’t have time to go to bed with Daenerys. He would stay loyal to the Starks. She was doing this for her family, for the North, for Jon, even, because this was what was best for  _ him _ .

 

In truth, Sansa had never felt like such a wicked creature. It had been a little bit naughty to think of Jon the way she did, to imagine how she might grab him under the table or pull him into his room. But to actually seduce him? To do her best to ensnare him? She knew it was selfish to think she could keep him all to herself, that it was madness to think that he would prefer her bed to Daenerys’... and yet she could not resist. She was as villainous as Cersei now. 

 

“You weren’t at dinner,” Jon said in between kisses.

 

“I wasn’t hungry,” Sansa said before pressing her lips to his again.  _ No, I was just hungry for you,  _ she thought as she slid her tongue against his. She had eaten in the kitchens earlier. She was loathe to see Daenerys any more than she had to. Jon’s other woman had grabbed her by the arm today and taken her for a turn about the Godswood as they waited for Bran to come out of his vision. She’d been asking about Jon and how little she seemed to know him left Sansa both angry and relieved. It had taken everything in Sansa not to tell Daenerys that she was far too little for Jon. 

 

“I was worried you had regrets,” Jon said, pulling away to look into her eyes. It was clear enough that he still wondered if she did. She shook her head and Jon kissed her again, even slower this time. She could feel him smiling against her lips, and his happiness made her feel warm and soft and more girlish than she should, given that she was naked underneath a man she still thought of as her brother. 

 

“No regrets,” she assured him. She ran her hands down his back. She wondered if she could have him now — she’d wondered that yesterday too, and when she’d gotten into the bath with him. She’d meant to have him. She desired him, it was true, but it was more than that. She wanted to make him hers. But both times she’d walked away before it could happen. She’d gotten him stripped down to his breeches now. She was still as in awe of his physical form as she was that first night in the bath, but she knew better than to openly appreciate it. She was a lady after all, and such behaviour was decidedly improper. Instead she ran her hands along him, caressed him, committed his body to memory. 

 

They would go all the way today. She’d decided in her room as she unbranded her hair and brushed it out, gazing in the mirror. He wanted her, that was plain, though she still wasn’t completely certain why. She was sure Daenerys didn’t have so many scars and she knew Daenerys didn’t run away before they’d finished. She wanted him too, and that was what scared her. It felt wrong to want it after everything that had happened to her. 

 

“Are you alright?” Jon asked, pulling his heavenly mouth away from her neck and looking into her eyes. 

 

Sansa nodded. She hadn’t meant to slip off into her own mind when they were abed. That had already put an end to it twice. “I’m sorry,” she said.

 

Jon’s forehead creased in confusion. “For what?”

 

“I don’t mean to be so frigid.”

 

At that Jon Snow had the nerve to laugh. “Frigid?”

 

“Afraid to consummate our affair,” Sansa clarified, annoyed with him for laughing.

 

Jon went back to her neck, running his lips up the soft skin. His unshaven beard scratched against her, and if she wasn’t so aroused it would be impossibly ticklish. Finally he took her earlobe in his mouth and nibbled on it. “There’s no rush,” he said at last. “I could do this all day.”

 

Except there was a rush. Her seduction attempts were getting pathetic. Each night he tried to take him inside her. She intended for them to make love until the first light broke through the Lord’s Chambers window. She meant to be a lover to rival the legendary Daenerys Targaryen. 

 

“I want to feel you inside me, though,” Sansa said, holding him close. 

 

“There are other things we can do.”

 

“Did you do any of those things with your dragon queen?” Sansa asked, with more bite in her tone than she’d intended. 

 

“No. No, these are things I only want to do to you.”

 

That caught Sansa’s attentions. “Oh?” She too had been plagued by fantasies of things she could imagine doing with no man other than Jon. She’d come up with even more when she’d beheld his naked form for the first time. He had scars, just like she did, but underneath that his body seemed to be made of marble. She’d never seen such a sight. And the thing between his legs — his cock, she should call it, she was not a child anymore — only played into some of them. “What sort of things?”

 

Jon hesitated, lingering on her neck. She thought he meant to simply keep kissing her, but his lips trailed down her chest and then across her stomach. He stopped to look around the furs for the ribbon he used to tie back his hair — she had pulled it out with some flourish when she was undressing him, and she blushed when she thought of how exciting it had been to watch his hair fall free. It was so  _ wild _ and untamed. He finally found it underneath a pillow, and tied his hair back again. 

 

“Must you put it back up? I like it down.”

 

Jon’s mouth twisted into a satisfied grin, “I want to be able to see what I’m doing.”

 

It took only a moment for her to realize what he planned on doing. He lowered his head and and pressed his lips to her cunt before she could think anymore on the matter. It was odd, seeing him between her legs. She didn’t think Daenerys would stand for this. It felt odd too — not entirely unpleasant, though she did wish he’d listened to her about his hair so she’d have something to grip. When he began to suck on her the oddness of it all faded and she was left with only desire. 

 

When Sansa had peaked for the first time last night, she’d run to Gilly without even putting a shift on underneath her cloak. For the life of her she couldn’t understand what happened. She had not been prepared to utterly come apart. She had supposed to be the one reclaiming power, but for a moment she’d felt completely vulnerable. Gilly was helpful at scheming, and her new friend was the only person who seemed to both loathe Daenerys and not be disgusted by the concept of her and Jon. But even Gilly had blushed when Sansa asked about what happened to her, and she certainly hadn’t prepared her for Jon to kiss her between her legs. Perhaps she truly had turned Jon into a sexual deviant, and if that was true than perhaps she had reclaimed her power after all.

 

She peaked even more quickly like this. Jon gripped her hips when she did, his tongue not relenting until her entire body had stilled. 

 

Minutes passed before she came down from the high and her breasts had stopped heaving, and by then Jon had pulled her into his arms. She was content there. So content she did not wake till the morning light steamed in through the window and she was forced to play the dangerous game of sneaking back to her room unseen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	4. Chapter 4

As the weeks passed by, Jon and Sansa had settled into a cozy little routine. Jon did not push her further than she was ready to go, but he kissed her scars and fell asleep with her pulled tight against him, her naked body keeping his own warm. They had taken to having long baths, staying in the water until it had gone cold, their hands running over each other’s bodies soft and slow, their lips grazing necks and chests and arms. Jon excused the need for such frequent bathing by telling Daenerys and Arya that he was sore and the warm water would do his muscles good. It did, but so did Sansa’s touch, and the way they would fall into bed still wet, the luscious feeling of clean skin against the soft furs calming his nerves and letting his tired mind rest. 

 

Sansa didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about them, lest the entire political alliance he’d given up so much to form fall apart like a house of cards, and yet she seemed unable to leave after he’d ravished her with his mouth. 

 

He was unable to feel guilty that he was having such reckless affair with Sansa when he’d told Daenerys that the two of them needed to stay apart to keep their liaison hushed up. “We don’t want anyone thinking I knelt because of us, do you?” he’d said to keep her at bay. It was sensible enough that it did the trick, and yet Jon found himself going against his own advice as he spent night after night making Sansa fall apart. That everyone in the castle hadn’t found out was a small miracle. 

 

By the time Sansa snuck into his room after dark that night, Jon was already in the tub, drinking the dornish wine that Sansa had had sent to his chambers. It was a special occasion — Jon was set to leave the next morning to meet up with Daenerys, whose troops had set out a week ago. He probably should have left days ago, but he had stayed behind rallying his troops while Daenerys took on the Night King on dragonback. Somebody needed to organize a shipment of food and clothing for the Dothraki horde Daenerys had brought north with her, after all, and after being away for so long, it pained him to have to leave so soon...

 

“Are you going to join me?” Jon asked, already feeling the soft buzz of the wine. 

 

“Yes… In a minute…” Sansa’s voice wandered off as she continued to gaze at him. 

 

Jon rarely knew what Sansa was thinking. She was as quiet as he was, and her icy face rarely gave any indication of her true emotions. She kept up a facade of courtesy and strength. But her eyes contained no ice in them now. There was lust in them, a hunger that was accentuated by the way her teeth nibbled on her bottom lip. But there was something else there he couldn’t read, something she was keeping from him. Sansa had no reason to hold back from him, he was waiting for her naked and wet and tipsy and eager to please. 

 

Without saying anything, Sansa looked down and began to undress. In the beginning, Jon had been reluctant to let her see him staring at her, but he’d come to learn that Sansa liked to be watched. She didn’t seem to mind being the object of his lustful fantasies, and seemed to enjoy the power she held over him. He couldn’t say he minded it either. Few delights seemed to match the familiar sight of Sansa’s cloak falling to the ground and her shift being pulled over of her head. Under the water, his cock grew hard as Sansa stood before him naked except for silk stockings that reached the middle of her thighs. The flickering torches around the room bathed her naked body in soft light bright enough for him to see the soft red hair between her legs and the pink tips of her breasts, which had hardened in the cold air. 

 

“This will be the last time in awhile,” Sansa said, sadness in her voice. “Is there anything… you want from me?” 

 

Jon hitched his breath. He wanted  _ everything _ from her. Sansa walked to the edge of the metal tub and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She ran a finger down his chest. She pulled away from him, but kept her face only a few inches from his own. 

 

“I want you to bend over for me,” Jon said at last, his voice lower than normal. He hadn’t been able to get the picture of Sansa bent over out of his head over the past few weeks. The view of her cunt and ass and legs had stirred him in a way he’d never experienced before. Even now, the thought of it made his arousal almost painful, and he felt an urge to take himself in hand. Just the thought of the way she’d bared everything to him that first night and a few tugs was enough to satisfy Jon. 

 

“Okay,” Sansa said in a breathy voice. She stood back up, took a few steps away from the tub and swept her loose hair over one shoulder. She widened her legs and bent over, her hands touching the floor. 

 

Jon let out an involuntary groan. Jon and Sansa had passed their secret hours together naked, but he’d never given into the urge to sink into her cunt and feel her tight around him, even in those moments when she seemed to want it nearly as bad as he did. But he’d decided from the outset that he wouldn’t attempt anything like that, wouldn’t even ask her for it. They wouldn’t fuck until she begged him for it, or better yet, until they were man and wife, if such a day were ever to come.

 

And yet, the sight of her like that tested the bounds of his restraint. He felt an animalistic urge to grab her hips and take her from behind. He blamed it on the wolf inside of him, the one that always seemed close to escaping these days. Unable to help himself, he took himself in hand, imagining he was inside her. 

 

Sansa must have heard the soft splashes in the quiet room, for she asked, “are you touching yourself?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You don’t want me to —”

 

“No,” he commanded, his voice gruff. “No, stay like that.”

 

“Okay,” Sansa said. She was quiet for a moment, but then she asked, “can I touch myself, then?”

 

“Yes,” he said, just the idea sending a wave of heat through his body. His mouth went dry as he watched her hand move between her legs, and then her legs begin to quiver as she felt the beginnings of pleasure. When she pushed two fingers into her cunt, Jon broke and spilled his seed in the warm water. But Sansa did not stop as he struggled to catch his breath. She stayed bent over, supporting herself with one hand as she fingered herself with the other. Jon drained another glass of wine as he watched her, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky, forgetting all about everything else that was outside of these walls. 

 

Based on her ragged breath and the speed of her fingers, Sansa seemed close too, but Jon stopped her. “Come here,” he said, his voice hard. 

 

With some reluctance, Sansa pulled her fingers out of her cunt and stood back up. She braced the side of the tub with both hands, and sat down in his lap. They were used to this part by now. Sansa’s chest pushed into Jon’s and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Under the warm water, they moved their legs around until Sansa was straddling one of his thighs. He grabbed her hips and they began to move, creating friction as she rubbed her cunt against his thigh. This was his last night, after all. He wanted to feel her come apart for him. He wanted to kiss her too, and he did, harder than he ever had before. They seemed to be letting go of any restraint they’d been in possession of. 

 

“Sansa — I…” he began.There had been something underneath of all of this that Jon had been holding back, unspoken words that itched to be said out loud. But that’s not what this was to her, of that Jon was sure. 

 

“What is it?” she asked, not slowing down the movement of her hips as she inquired. 

 

_ I love you _ . 

 

Those weren’t words that should be spoken like this though, were they?

 

Sansa deserved everything she’d dreamt of as a little girl. Something ripped from a song, something she could tell her children about, romantic whimsy and devotion. Not words grunted out as she neared orgasm, rutting against his leg. 

 

“I… want you to sit on my face.”

 

_ Nice save _ , he thought as Sansa finally came. 


End file.
